The New Black Gold
by Hawki
Summary: "USCSS Gehenna. Extra-solar Petroleum Commission vessel. You ever hear about it? Last I heard it was on some ice planet designated OA-196. Early 22nd century. What was a ship like that doing on that icepick? Dunno. But it never came back. Rumour has it that the 'oil' they found wasn't really oil at all."
1. Darkness Rising

**Prometheus: The New Black Gold**

**Chapter 1: Darkness Rising**

OA-196 was a cold planet.

1.3 astronomical units from its star. Atmosphere consisting mainly of carbon dioxide, nitrogen and argon, along with a bit of oxygen. A world covered in ice apart from its equatorial region. A look at what Snowball Earth may have been like, had Earth been located dozens of light-years from Sol. A world on which the _Behemoth_-class starfreighter _Gehenna _was currently set up, floating on the world's sea, its rig extending to the bottom. A mobile oil drill.

How oil could have even formed on such a world, Robert McPhail didn't know. But the Extra-solar Petroleum Commission had sent the _Gehenna _here, and if he wanted his paycheck, he'd do his job. Which basically amounted to standing on top of the rig alongside William Everton, watching the drill spin, checking the pressure gauges and trying to stay warm.

"Christ, it's freezing."

And failing.

Will looked up from the pipe he was perched on, his look indistinguishable through his rebreather. On a more hazardous world, they might have been equipped with full environmental suits. But here, they had gear meant for the Arctic and Antarctic work of centuries past and plastic masks that filtered all gasses bar nitrogen and oxygen. It was cold, it was unpleasant, but with a crew of five and minimal protective gear, it was cheap for the EPC.

"How long until shift end?"

William glanced at his chrono. "Five…ten minutes."

"Make it five."

William grinned. And this time, Rob saw it.

Standing up, the rig worker rubbed his gloved hands together, gazing at the faint glow of the setting sun. Soon, temperatures would become so low that nothing short of a heated environmental suit could protect them. All that remained now was to perform a final inspection of the drill and pipes before heading inside. All the data would be monitored by Captain Mordain, but EPC regulations stated that an eyes-only inspection had to be carried out as well.

"_You boys coming in?"_

_Speak of the devil, _Robert thought, activating his radio. "Hear you cap."

"_Good, because I'm shutting down the drill."_

"Seriously?" Rob asked. "That's the second time this month."

"_You know the regulations McPhail. Maintenance has to be carried out twice per month. EPC regs, ICC regs, environmental-"_

"I get the idea Cap."

"_Good. So how's your on-site inspection?"_

"Just starting," Rob murmured, watching as Will inspected the pipes for any signs of fracture. "Should be finished before long."

"_Make it before soon instead."_

"Sure cap, I'll-"

"Fuck!"

"…call you later."

Rob rushed over to the sound of the voice, finding Will sprawled on the ground, his head lying against a valve. Oil was spurting out from one of the pipes, and quite quickly as well, having hit Will with enough force to knock off his rebreather. Looking down at his friend, Rob saw his oil-drenched face staring up at him.

"Will, you-"

"I'm fine!" he yelled, pulling the rebreather back on. "Just shut it down!"

On instinct, Robert pulled the emergency valve, sealing the pipe section and cutting off the flow of oil. Also on instinct, he helped his friend up.

"You alright?"

"Fine," Will murmured. "Not sure about the pipes though."

Rob remained silent. A rupture in the pipes was the last thing they needed, especially at this time of night. The pipes would often freeze, but a cracked one? That would make it even worse.

"Come on," Rob said. eventually "Let's head inside."

"But the pipe-"

"It's freezing, you've got oil on your face, you hit your head and since you've been exposed to the planet's atmosphere, you need to be given an examination," Rob said, leading his friend to the airlock. "And…did I mention that it's freezing?"

"Yes…yes you did."

"Good. Because it's what we're going to tell everyone else when explaining why we'll be adding the pipes to our maintenance schedule tomorrow."

* * *

"Seriously doc, I'm fine."

"I'm not a doctor, I'm a nurse."

"What's the difference?"

Anna Chapel didn't say. There were worlds of difference…quite a few light years' worth actually, considering how far OA-196 was from the nearest inhabited world. But while she was trained in the use of the body-scanner, anything beyond that was best left to doctors. Not nurses who were assigned to starships to fulfil the bare minimum of Interstellar Commerce Commission regulations.

"Can I get out yet?" Will called from the machine.

"No," Chapel answered, looking at the read-out on the terminal beside the tube.

"Now?"

"My answer's the same."

"…so, how about now?"

_How about you shut up?_

Chapel wished Rob was here - he and Will were tightly knit, what with being the jocks of the _Gehenna_'s five-man crew, herself included. Rob, ever the responsible one, could have shut Will up. Rob, the one who _hadn't _been exposed to the air and suffered a nasty blow to the head, not to mention his face getting covered with oil.

"Is it done yet?"

"Yes," Chapel sighed. "It's done."

It wasn't really. But of what the scan had revealed so far, there was no harm in the bump Will had suffered, and the chances of him suffering from infection were remote. OA-196 probably had some form of microscopic life somewhere (as per the oxygen in its atmosphere), but there'd never been any confirmation, and whatever its nature, Chapel doubted it would be flying around through the air and just happening to enter Will in the few seconds his rebreather had been taken off. So watching him slide out of the tube, she expected to give him a clean bill of health, turn in for the night, and use some more of the ship's supplies of coffee.

She didn't expect the oil on his face.

"Doc?" Will asked. "Something wrong?"

"There's oil. On your face."

"What? I cleaned it off."

He had. Chapel had helped him with it, removing the black goo from his skin. But now, it was back. His left cheek had a dark splodge on it.

"I…" Will got off the tray and stood up, only to stumble over and save himself a fall by grabbing onto the tray he'd just been on. "I…I don't…"

Chapel rushed over, helping him up.

"Oh my God…"

The oil was spreading. All over his left cheek. Some had appeared on his right cheek.

"Doc…"

Will stumbled again. He missed the table. He fell to his hands and knees.

"I…I…"

"Will!" Chapel exclaimed, kneeling down. "What's wrong? Where's the oil coming from?!"

He remained silent. There was a faint raspy breathing sound, but his face remained fixated on the lab's floor.

"Will?" the nurse asked. "You okay?"

There was silence. Silence broken only by the worker's raspy breathing. By the wind outside. By the hum of the ship.

And as Will Everton looked upwards and lunged, it was silence that was also broken by a scream.

* * *

"Hot chocolate again? How old are you?"

"Thirty-two. Why?"

Doctor Isabelle Ruda didn't answer as Rob helped himself to some hot chocolate from the dispenser. Most adults would have tea, coffee, or even some synthetic substitute. But no, he had hot chocolate of all things. Maybe he didn't want to stay up like she did. Because while he'd be working on the cracked pipe tomorrow as she'd heard, she wanted to stay up late. The mystery wouldn't let her sleep.

"Can I sit?"

And nor would Rob for that matter. Even as he sat down at the kitchen table without waiting for her to answer.

"Thanks Bella."

The scientist winced. She hated the name, but Mister McPhail kept on using it. Thankfully he was outside on the rig most of the time, but every so often their paths crossed, and in this room no less. Mainly because at this time of night, the kitchen was one of the few warm places left on the ship.

"What you reading?"

"Stuff that's well beyond you," Ruda answered, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Try me."

Ruda glanced up at the jock, his mouth already smeared with froth. Common courtesy told her to point it out, but her mind was telling her to cut to the chase, explain her conundrum, and hope it would be enough to drive the idiot away.

"Okay," Ruda said, sliding one of her sheets over to the man across from her. "This is a piece of my lab work."

"You do work?"

"Hardy hah hah. Yes Rob, I do. Based around the oil of course, and whatever else I can get my hands on."

It was all formality. Just like her presence. Oil drilling was a potential nightmare in such conditions because in the event of a spill, there were fewer microbes to help break it down and the oil could be transported via ice, escaping one's notice. In light of this, the EPC had assigned the _Gehenna _a scientist to do…scientific stuff. Apparently there were few enough people in the galaxy to give a damn about what might be done to the environment of a world such as OA-196, so her presence had apparently been enough to be given the all clear. She doubted that anyone on the board really expected her to do anything.

But she had. And then some.

"So this is oil research?" Rob asked, glancing at the piece of paper Ruda had slid over. "Looks…researchy."

"That's not a word. But look at this one as well."

Ruda slid the second piece over. It was practically identical, showing a chemical analysis of the oil.

"Notice anything different?"

"Um…no?" Rob asked.

"Look at the volume of oil," Ruda said. "It's the same sample."

Rob looked. And looked. And looked. And-

"Give me those."

Steaming like the coffee and hot chocolate, the scientist drew back the papers. There was just no talking to some people.

"I don't get it though," Rob said. "How could oil have formed here anyway?"

Ruda raised an eyebrow - perhaps this was a conversation worth having after all.

"I don't know," she admitted. "There's no indication that this planet has active plates. And even if it did, how could there have been enough microbes for it to form? When was this planet warm enough for the required conditions? And…and why do I think this isn't oil?"

Rob stared at her, clearly interested. So interested that his hot chocolate was forgotten. Unable to contain herself, Ruda showed him the paper again, pointing one finger at each set of statistics.

"I've been studying an oil sample," she said softly. "Carbon, hydrogen…usual chemical formation, though there's far more carbon than usual. The kind of concentration you'd expect in carbon-based life. And…and look at the volume."

Rob did. And still remained silent. But Ruda could tell his mind was going down the same path as hers.

"The oil sample. It increased in volume," the scientist said gravely. "Almost as if it was replicating."

Rob looked back up at her.

"Almost as if it were alive…"

* * *

Captain Wheaton Mordain knew it would be time to turn in soon. But for now, he was willing to sit on the _Gehenna_'s bridge and stare out into the snowstorm around it.

He felt at home here. The _Gehenna _was a rust bucket that was considered out-dated a decade ago, but one perk to its design was that its bridge was located at the top of its hull rather than at the front. It was his own little nest. His control node, a place where he could be talking to McPhail and Everton out on the rig one second, and Ruda or Chapel the next. OA-196 was a hell were every day was a cold one, but as he'd come to realize, better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven. It was as if the EPC knew it, what with assigning him to a ship called the "Gehenna" of all things, content to have one of their vessels operate so far from Earth that one usually had to wait a full month to get a return message.

_And what else do they know? _Mordain wondered, staring out into the snowstorm around him. _And what haven't they told me?_

Possibly nothing. But still, something was fishy. And with the lack of any marine predators in this world's seas, those fish were free to multiply.

How had oil been detected on this world, Mordain wondered? What compelled the EPC to send a scout ship to an ice world where it shouldn't have been able to form? There were far more lucrative operations being carried out on other worlds, and worlds closer to Earth at that. No doubt they'd get to this world eventually - even in an age of hydrogen fuel cells and the like, oil was still required to make plastics. But it seemed to be jumping the gun a little, and while Mordian enjoyed ruling over his piece of hell, sometimes Heaven didn't seem so bad. Not that Earth was all that pleasant to live on but-

**Boom.**

The captain sprung out of his chair.

**Boom.**

But didn't react further because it was simply the sound of someone knocking on the door to the bridge.

"Door's open," Mordain called out, sitting back in his chair.

**Boom.**

"I said the door's open."

**Boom.**

"Oh, for crying out loud…"

Was it really so hard to open a door? To simply press the **enter **button on the keypad? Mordain wouldn't have thought so, but then again, he never would have thought he'd have been assigned to an ice-world to extract oil either.

**Boom. Boom.**

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Mordain said, approaching the door, looking down at the keypad and pressing the **enter **button on his end. "Honestly, can't you open a-"

He didn't get the chance to finish that sentence.

As the pair of things sprung into the room and knocked him to the ground, he didn't get the chance to say anything more period.

* * *

_A/N  
_

_This being the first chapter of the story, there isn't too much to say that my homepage entry for it doesn't already cover. Still, short version is, this originally started off as a short story with a 2,500 word limit. Realizing I couldn't compress it into that few words, I expanded it into a multi-chaptered fic. Hopefully it works better this way.  
_

_For what it's worth, I could have started this off with a prologue, and indeed, I wrote one up. However, I decided not to post it as it felt like too weak of an opening, a "been there, done that" feel was felt, and it didn't convey anything that the story doesn't tell the reader in later chapters. _

_Update (29/01/13): Corrected some writing goofs.  
_


	2. Darkness Falling

**Prometheus: The New Black Gold**

**Chapter 2: Darkness Falling**

"Oh for goodness sake would you stop that?!"

"Stop what?"

"You know what!"

Rubbing her eyes, Ruda just wanted to sleep. She was tired, cranky, and Rob tapping his fingers on the table wasn't helping alleviate either of those conditions. The only reasons she was still here was because the question of the oil (if it even _was _oil) would keep her from getting to sleep easily, and because heading for bed before the jock did seemed like…losing, somehow. It was as if as soon as the man had entered the room, some unspoken game had begun, one where she could only guess at the rules. Rules that apparently stated that the total depletion of coffee and/or hot chocolate did not signal a break in play.

"Well, anyway, I'm off to bed."

_Oh thank God!_

Ruda looked up at Rob as he got up, taking his mug over to the sink. The game was over. Soon Rob would leave, and one way or another, she'd follow suit. Even if she couldn't figure out the mystery of the oil's replication, this was a small victory. On this snowball, one had to take all the victories you could get.

"Think I'll check in on Will," Ruda heard Rob say. "If I'm going solo tomorrow, I'd like to know."

"Think it'll come to that?"

Rob grunted.

"Well, give my regards to him," the scientist said, turning her attention back to her notes.

"Didn't think you cared."

"I don't. But I think it pays to be polite. It-"

**Tap-tap-tap.**

Ruda glanced up at the door.

**Tap-tap-tap.**

Rob glanced at it as well.

**Tap-tap-tap.**

"See, that's what I mean," Ruda said, gesturing towards the door with her pen. "Politeness. The ability to knock before barging in."

**Tap-tap-tap.**

"Ah, politeness is over-rated," Rob murmured, putting the mug in the dishwasher and turning it on. "The magic word's 'now', not-"

**Boom.**

"You can come in you know," the rig worker called to the door. "It's open."

**Boom.**

"I said it's open! You don't need to pound on it like-"

**Boom.**

"Oh, bloody hell."

Ruda went to say something, but (**Boom**) closed her mouth. It was meant to be something smart. Something (**Boom**) snarky. Something that wasn't meant to be held back by a feeling of alertness (**Boom**) and dread.

**Boom.**

"Alright, alright," Rob said, pressing the _open _button on the door panel. "Jesus, don't you people-"

He didn't get to finish the sentence. Not because of a boom though. It was actually due to a roar.

A roar that was met with Ruda's scream.

Papers scattered to the floor along with her chair; Ruda stumbled back against the wall, watching as the…_thing_ threw itself onto Rob. Flailing at him. Trying to bite him. Hit him.

**Grar! Wrar!**

"Son of a-"

Rob kicked it. It did nothing. He kicked it again.

**Raaah!**

It still did nothing.

_Not happening! Not-_

"Get…off…"

_Zombie…it…no…_

Rob kicked it again. It flailed back. It looked up. Its eyes met Ruda's.

_No…no…_

It charged.

_No!_

Ruda fell to the floor. Its fist just missed her skull and instead hit the shelf behind her. Everything in it fell onto the stove. It looked down at her. Looked through its blank eyes. Eyes attached to its blistered face. A face that featured a clenched mouth, a black, oil-like substance seeping out of it. It lunged for her.

Rob grabbed it by the waist and threw it to the door. A door that was still open. A door that led to a hallway where two more…_things_…were.

"Come on!"

Rob yanked his colleague to her feet. She didn't meet his gaze, her eyes so focussed on those of the thing still in the kitchen. It was a monster. It was insane. And it also looked like Captain Mordain.

If it-he-recognised his crew members, he didn't show it. Because it (_it, _Ruda told herself, _call it an it_) charged again. And all Rob could do was pick up the chair she'd been sitting on, and use it as a shield to protect himself.

"Rob!"

Ruda ran over to him. She would have reached him too if not for something hitting her with the force of a meteor.

"Gah!"

Ruda felt something warm trickle through her hair as she hit the bench behind her. Hitting it with such force that a drawer opened up and fell out, knives, forks and spoons hitting the floor. Yet as hard as she hit it, it wasn't enough to prevent her from grabbing the throat of her assailant as it lunged towards her. One that looked vaguely like Anna Chapel.

_Oh my God…_

It lunged. It screamed. It lifted an arm to hit her, but Ruda grabbed it, managing to keep it at bay. It turned to her arm. It went to bite it, the scientist losing her grip.

"No!"

Using her free hand, Ruda grabbed one of the knives that had fallen out. She slashed Chapel's throat. Black liquid spilt out of the wound. Chapel recoiled and seizing upon the opportunity, Ruda kicked her back, ignoring the blood seeping through her hair and the liquid that splattered on her face.

"Gah!"

Ruda got to her feet, brushing the liquid off her cheek. She looked at Chapel, regaining her bearings, apparently able to endure a cut throat if it meant staying on the attack. Not that she had to however, as a third assailant charged at her.

Ruda dived to one side. She didn't see its face. But she didn't have to. Or want to. She'd seen two of her friends turned into monsters. She didn't want to see what had happened to Will as well.

Drowning out the screams of the creature, she began crawling under the table. One of them grabbed her leg. She kicked back, making contact with something.

_Can't turn back, can't turn back._

She reached the other side. She stopped crawling when Mordain fell on the floor. He turned. He saw her. He recoiled as a boot made contact with his face. What he did next, Ruda didn't see, as Rob pulled her to her feet.

_Mordain…Will…Anna…_

"**Come on!"**

Rob dragged her to the door. One of the creatures lunged at him. He dodged it, shoved Ruda to one side, and smashed a mug on top of its head. Ruda glanced back, but he was already taking her through the doorway out into the hallway.

"**Close it!"**

Ruda did so. The door came down. Something slammed against it from the other side.

Something screeched. Something else screamed.

Ruda remained silent. Even as she slowly slid down the wall onto the floor, no sound was made.

She looked up at Rob, but no sound came from him either.

There didn't seem to be anything left to say.

* * *

"What…the _fuck_…were those things?!"

"Be more specific Rob."

"We got attacked by space invaders! How much more specific can you get?!"

"I dunno. Space Invaders has been remade so many times I've lost count."

"Oh, fuck you!"

Rob didn't like using such language. It was the early 22nd century, and there were plenty of words in plenty of languages that could have conveyed the situation just as well. But after seeing what he'd seen, language had to take a back seat to staying alive. So after trailing Ruda down the corridor for the last five minutes, he suddenly darted in front of her, slamming his palm against the corridor walls.

"Get out of my way," the scientist whispered

"Make me," the worker snarled. "Or tell me what the hell is going on."

"Rob, I-"

"I'd go for the second option Bella," he snarled. "It'll save you a lot of pain."

"Pain," she sneered, meeting his gaze. "You think anything you can do can match what those…_things _did?"

"You tell me! You were researching them!"

"That's bullshit! I only just found about the oil and-"

"**How do you know it even is oil!?"**

Rob lunged at Ruda. It was a clumsy move, and she easily sidestepped it.

"Rob, stop it!"

"Make me!"

"Rob, if you don't stop, those things will stop you for me!"

"Oh, and you'd like that, wouldn't you?!"

"No, I wouldn't."

The rig worker stopped short. He lowered his right fist, unclenching it. Backing away a few steps, Ruda began to talk.

"Rob, think about it," she said softly. "About what happened."

"I know what happened."

"Then if you can put two and two together, then you know Will was likely the first. Anna the second. The captain the third."

"Bullshit."

"Is it? Will gets sprayed with oil, goes to see the nurse. Next thing we know, we've got three zombies on the ship that are focussed on doing…whatever it is they want to do."

"We've…worked on the rig for months," Rob said slowly. "Why…why now?"

"Rob…"

"No," he said, backing against a wall. "I…Will…"

"Rob, maybe it's not the oil at all. It could be an airborne virus. It could be a parasite that got through our filtration systems. Heck, maybe there _is _some mad scientist at play and we're all part of a twisted weapons experiment."

Rob wasn't sure if he believed that.

"But we don't know," Ruda continued, taking a step towards him while rubbing her cheek, as if scratching an itch. "So we've got to head to the lab. If Will is our initial vector, if Anna was infected first, if there's anything that can give us info on what's going on…we should take it."

"Or we should get the hell off the ship."

Rob backed away from the wall. He walked towards the only other human onboard the vessel. He looked down at her, while she looked up at him.

"We leave," the rig worker said. "We head for the shuttle bay, enter orbit, go into cryo, and activate a distress beacon."

"That's not happening."

Rob blinked.

Something was wrong here. Apart from the whole alien-zombie-apocalypse thing. Less than an hour ago, they'd been engaged in casual banter. He'd been drinking hot chocolate, and getting the only kicks he could get out in this miserable corner of the galaxy, and irritating the only person he could irritate effectively. Now, "Bella" was talking back to him. Not brushing him off, outright defying him.

"Say that again," Rob snarled.

"No. We're not leaving. Not yet."

"You don't outrank me."

"Rob, the captain's dead. There was never any chain of command before that happened, and there certainly isn't one now. We have no idea how this thing transmits, or if we've been infected. We're not leaving until we know."

"And how long will that take?!"

"I don't know. But the good thing about this is that the medical station is close to the suit storage room. So we find out what we can, and regardless of what we can or can't find out, we'll have access to some HE-suits. If the oil is the mechanism for the spread of this thing, we'll be protected from it."

Rob sighed. He turned round, looking back down the corridor that led to the kitchen.

Could the things open doors, he wondered? They'd gotten into the kitchen by him opening it, but with it closed, there was a chance they were contained. But if they figured out how to move around the ship on their own, they had limited time. The trip Ruda had planned involved going down to D-deck from their current B-deck location, then back up to C-deck for the shuttle bay.

"Rob," Ruda said, as if reading his mind. "We don't have time for debate."

"You're right. That's why we should leave now, damn the consequences."

"And if we're rescued? If we infect a ship? A world? You want to be remembered as the man who doomed humanity to death by zombification?"

"I'd rather be remembered than be killed."

"If you're infected, you're likely dead anyway."

"But I'm not," Rob protested.

"Funny. I bet Will thought the same thing."

"…shit."

Rob turned around, pressing his palms against the passage's wall and closing his eyes wearily. It felt cold. _He_ felt cold. Even with life support, nights on OA-196 were often cold regardless. And if he even got off this iceball, all he had to look forward to was the cold of suspended animation.

"Fine," the worker said eventually. "Let's go." He began walking past Ruda, one hand brushing her hair to the side, the other again scratching her cheek.

"Thanks, Rob."

"Don't thank me," he called back to her. "I want the HE-suits. If I'm going to die, I want to be warm when it happens."

* * *

_A/N_

_Man, it's been ages since I've got enough reviews in a multi-chaptered story, and of sufficient length/depth, to prompt some discussion. Guess space zombies aren't out of style yet. Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed, and concerning some of the points raised in the reviews:  
_

_-Don't take story requests for a variety of reasons, so if anyone's wanting a story of mala'kak interacting with ancient humans, don't expect it from me in the near future. Besides, half of it would probably involve the yautja demanding sacrifices for their Antarctic temple at the same time. Go figure.  
_

_-Nurse Chapel...believe it or not, that was indeed a coincidence. While I'm familiar with the original _Star Trek _series and the character of the same name, it wasn't an intentional reference. _

_-A few queries have been raised as to whether this comes under the fanfiction label. Well, I do admit, this story is designed to be easy to read by those unfamiliar with the setting, hence the anonymous writing group reviews. It's something I've drifted to recently with multi-chaptered fics in recent times, to write in given settings, but to explore areas of those settings that allow me free reign. Best of both worlds - keeps my stories on the same site, but allows me to let my imagination run freely...the unoriginality of space zombies notwithstanding. 0_0  
_


	3. Through the Shadows

**Prometheus: The New Black Gold**

**Chapter 3: Through the Shadows**

Rob had expected the mess, which there was. He'd expected blood, which there was. He'd expected an air of dread, which he felt.

None of the expectations helped soften the blow.

Rob beheld the scene before him. A towel with what looked like the oil substance on it, a drawer on the floor with surgical tools spread around, as if Anna had been looking for a weapon. Blood on the side of the tray that led into the bio-scanner. He glanced at Ruda. She glanced back.

"Your workstation," he murmured.

Silently, the scientist nodded. She walked in, and Rob closed the door behind them. Those things were apparently slow on the uptake when it came to opening doors, but they had to have come across some of them on the way to the kitchen. If they were going to sneak up on them, he wanted plenty of warning.

"This'll do."

Rob looked at Ruda, crouching down beside the towel. Gingerly, she picked up some tweezers and lifted it from the edge.

"You want to wear gloves or something?" Rob asked.

Ruda silently put the towel on one of the benches and began rummaging through the drawers, eventually taking out a pair of surgical gloves.

"Glad you agree."

The doctor remained silent as she started casually clearing the desk, placing the towel on it. Remained silent as she picked up a paper towel and headed for the blood on the bench side, scraping it off.

"You er…want me to do anything?" Rob asked.

"Be quiet. That would be good."

"…I'll get right on that."

Rob stuck in his hands in his pockets and began pacing back and forth.

_We shouldn't be here, _he told himself. _Should get moving._

He glanced back at the door. He glanced at Ruda. She was busy cutting up the towel's damp spot and putting it in a petri dish for some reason.

"I-"

Rob's sentence fell short. He didn't know what to say. Desperate, wanting to keep himself occupied so he didn't have to keep looking over his shoulder, he started going through the material spread out over the bench. Most of it resembled the stuff he'd seen in the draws bar the test tubes and what looked like a Bunsen burner, if he remembered high school science correctly. The only unique item was a thin, pad-like device, one with only a few buttons below its screen. He pressed the "on" button.

Anna Chapel stared back at him.

_A holo-still._

A damaged holo-still, given how badly the screen was flickering. But he could still make out the general image. Anna Chapel on one side, a tall, dark-skinned man on the other. Just standing. Just smiling. Just doing both with their backs to a public park that could have been on Earth, or an artificial environment in a dome for all he knew. Indulging his curiosity, letting it drown out his anxiety, he pressed the arrow button on the still.

Bar the image freezing, nothing happened.

"Hey Bella," Rob said.

"What?" came an irritated reply.

"You know anything about Anna?" Rob asked.

"Course I knew stuff. She was part of the crew."

"I mean…" The rig worker trailed off, putting the still face-down on the bench. "I mean…know-know, about her. Homeworld. Family. Stuff like that."

"Didn't ask," Ruda grunted, now using a paper towel to get some of the blood on the bench. "She was a nurse, I'm a scientist."

"How objective of you."

Ruda glared at him, her cheeks flushed (well, one of them anyway, the other was slightly discoloured). "Don't patronize me Rob."

"Why?"

"Because if you're asking these questions, I bet you didn't know the first thing about her either."

Rob opened his mouth. Then he closed it.

"Didn't think so."

With Ruda going back to the microscope, Rob went back to his pacing and pockets. Anna Chapel. Age unknown, homeworld unknown, identity of the guy in the picture unknown. She was dead, and despite having worked on this junk heap for months, he didn't know the first thing about her. And as he let that feeling course through him, he realized he didn't know anything about Mordain either. Even Will, he only knew that he'd come from a world orbiting Alpha Centauri, had a sister who he kept in touch with, parents who he didn't for some undisclosed reason, and liked pizza. Especially pizza with anchovies.

Rob, feeling hungry, felt a sudden yearning for chicken kiev. It was a yearning he lost when he saw Ruda in front of him with a syringe in hand.

"Um…"

The scientist smiled. "It's just a needle Rob."

"It's not the needle I'm worried about. It's the person holding it."

The smile faded. "Well, too bad, it's necessary."

"Why?"

"Because I was right. The oil is alive. Or at least what I suppose counts as life. Don't know if it has any DNA or RNA, but…well, look for yourself."

Glancing at the needle, Rob turned his gaze to the microscope, feeling like he was back in science class on Ganymede. He saw a black blur interacting with a pinkish blur. It was hard to make out, and he didn't trust himself to fiddle around with the device, but if this was a battle, he'd stake his money on the black.

"It's invading the cells," Ruda said as Rob withdrew his gaze, rubbing his eyes afterwards. "Kind of like a virus, but there's no way of telling. If this substance has cells, then it isn't a virus. If it behaves like a bacteria, infecting us by releasing toxins, it-"

"Yeah, yeah, it's life, but not as we know it," Rob interrupted, glancing back at the door before returning his gaze to the needle. "That's great, and I'm sure there's a Nobel Prize waiting for you. But what about us?"

"I don't know," Ruda said calmly, lowering her gaze.

Rob swore.

"But if I can take a blood sample, I can find out. Hopefully." She held the syringe up. "And you're first."

Rob wanted to say something witty, or something to make Ruda go first. But being unable to do either, he rolled his right sleeve up and waited for the prick. He hated needles, but usually found it easier if he focussed on something else. Anything. Even Will. Or his sister.

_Oh hi Miss Everton…or Mrs…are you married? Sorry for not knowing your forename, I just forgot it. Thing is, Will's dead. Um…yeah…awkward, I know. He…liked you. I think. Know he liked pizza. Do you like pizza? Don't mind it myself, but I prefer Hawaiian style. Never been to Hawaii. Heck, haven't been to Earth ever. Know a Doctor Chapel who might have. You been to Earth? Are there parks around? Is it common to take pictures there and-_

"There. All done."

"Ow," Rob murmured. He watched as Ruda swabbed the injection point with some piece of cotton wool. He kept watching as she made her way back to the microscope.

"You're going to test yourself, right?" Rob asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Ruda said, rubbing her cheek before refocussing the microscope. "It'll take awhile though. The microscope can tell me some things, but if there's a toxin screen I can run, I'd like to take that opportunity."

"You do that," Rob said. "I'll get the HE-suits."

The scientist glanced back at him. "All alone?"

"Sooner we get the suits, the sooner we get out of here," he said. "Or if I turn out to be infected, you'll have a harder time killing me."

"You do that then," Ruda said, turning back to the microscope. "Just bring me one as well. In case…well, you know."

Rob nodded. Even if she didn't see. Though he did wonder.

Three people were dead already. And there was a moderate chance that he'd follow suit.

And yet the prospect of dying didn't bother him as much as it once did.

Glancing back at the broken holo-still, it was rather the prospect of him dying and no-one ever being told.

* * *

It briefly occurred to Rob that he could make a run for the shuttle bay while Ruda was still doing her science stuff. One deck up, reach the shuttle bay, and take the shuttle up into orbit and wait for rescue. Ruda could die or fly the other if she wanted, but as he made his way to the storage room, the rig worker realized that while the _Gehanna _had started living up to its namesake, he could still give the demons that prowled it the middle finger, gain a halo, and fly up into the heavens.

Or he could play by the rules. And by the time it had really entered his mind, he was at the storage room anyway. And after glancing down D deck, section A-2, Rob entered the room.

_Crap. It's even colder in here._

The room's lone occupant shivered as he moved towards the storage room's end. There'd be no reason to provide heat to this part of the ship he supposed, and D deck was at its base, its airlock leading out to the rig. Rubbing his hands against his arms, his breath appearing in front of him, Rob kept walking. There were a large number of tools at his disposal, but the HE-suits were what he wanted. If only to keep warm.

_Could have kept Will alive…_

Rob stopped rubbing his hands and formed them into fists, though shoved them into his pockets as he approached the pair of suits at the end of the room. They were expensive, hard to maintain, and only meant for environments that were…well, hostile. Cold temperatures alone didn't qualify, so while the _Gehanna _had stocked a pair for its rig workers to use, to allow protection from the elements while maintaining ease of movement, he and Will had never been allowed to use them. Pressing the button by one of the tubes, the black, fully-enclosed suit slid out, its helmet suspended above.

Rob stopped feeling cold as a tingle ran up his spine. It…well, it was cool, he reflected. The situation was terrible, but…

_People died._

The tingle left, the cold returned. Even as he removed the suit from the rack and slid into it. It functioned like a second skin, the idea being that one stretched out the neckpiece, slid into it, then activate the trigger that would shape the suit to one's body. They weren't particularly hard to use, but that was coming from someone who'd practiced in them long before getting this assignment. So when Rob put on the helmet, sealing with a _hiss_, he disabled the HUD, and set the systems to rely on an external air source. It would save power, save air, and would save him from the distraction of streams of light crawling across his visor.

Rob stretched out his arms, getting a feel for the suit. He felt warm again.

Picking up the second suit and its helmet, he began heading for the exit. Not only did he feel warm, he felt safe. He was in an enclosed suit, and while it was a suit with a glass visor on it, it was a visor designed to withstand heavy blows of force.

_And if the zombies are stronger?_

His pace slowed, and he began looking across the shelves and racks throughout the room. There was nothing. No weapons at least. There were no weapons on the ship, period. The closest thing there was to a firearm were some boltshots, and they were designed for installing or extracting screws. He'd get a grand total of one shot before the thing was on him.

_The EPC needs a new charter, _the rig worker reflected. _All ships must stock firearms in case of zombie infestation. All crew members must be trained to deliver headshots. _

Scowling, Rob picked up one of a pair of fire axes. It was heavy, more so than the suit he was dragging for Ruda, and there was no telling how effective it might be. But as he headed back out into the corridor, he reflected that if he was bringing a knife to a gunfight, it was at least a knife with a polycarbonate blade.

"An axe, huh? You got something to grind it on?"

Apparently Ruda wasn't as impressed.

Rob dropped the spare suit down, while keeping the axe in his right hand. "You shouldn't be out here," he said.

"Why not? Tests are done. Couldn't just wait around."

"Right. And?"

"Your blood work is fine," the scientist said, making her way over and picking up the suit, holding it as if it were her first time. "No surprises."

"And you?" the rig worker asked.

"Hmm?"

"And you," Rob repeated. "Your tests. The results."

"Huh? Oh, right," Ruda said, keeping her eyes on the HE-suit. "Yeah…fine. Fine…"

Rob fingered the axe, wondering if he should get another. Wondering whether his former crew members were still locked in the kitchen, or if they were prowling the ship's corridors this very moment. Wondering why Ruda was still fingering the HE-suit like some newborn kitten.

"Bella, do you even know how to get it on?"

"Course I do," the scientist murmured.

"Have you ever _worn _one?"

The scientist remained silent as she started trying to get one of the sleeves to open.

"Oh for goodness sake!"

Rob walked over, grabbing the suit from the only other human left on the ship. He yanked open the neckpiece.

"Climb in," he said.

Cautiously, Ruda did so. Very slowly, and clearly uncomfortable. But she managed it, and immediately afterwards, he pressed the thumb and forefingers of the left hand together, activating the trigger that shaped the suit to her own body.

"And this," Rob said, disabling the second helmet's HUD and fitting it on his co-worker.

Ruda looked at him through the glass. She looked morose, her gaze lingering on anything but his own eyes. Maybe she didn't want to admit that she hadn't had the faintest idea how to operate one of these things.

"We should go," the scientist said eventually. "Get into the shuttle. Get into stasis. Get to a place where people can treat…rescue, us."

"Ditto," Rob said. "But one last thing."

He walked back into the storage room. He came back out with the other fire axe.

"You're carrying this."

* * *

The axe was heavy.

Ruda wasn't expecting that. She expected to be weighed down by the H-whatever suit. Not the weapon she held in her hand. A weapon towards which she had grave concerns towards its practicality. Rob could insist they needed protection all he wanted, but he hadn't done what she had. He wasn't the one who'd slashed Chapel's throat, watching as the former nurse shrugged the blow off as if it were a paper-cut. But he was the one who'd have egg on his visor as they entered the shuttle bay, seeing its sole craft. Which they did. After having encountered none of the zombies whatsoever.

"I told you so," Ruda murmured.

Rob glanced at her. "What?"

"Never mind Rob. I'll do my victory dance in space."

"These kinds of shuttle don't have artificial gravity."

"Then I'll do the next best thing."

In actual fact, the scientist's intention was to get into stasis as soon as possible. Because there was much more she knew that Rob didn't. And resisting the urge to take off her helmet and scratch the itch on her cheek, she intended on keeping it that way. At least for the immediate future.

"You handle the ping Rob, I'll make the prep."

The rig worker glanced at her. "You can do that?"

"We all went through the same training dumbass. I know how to fly a shuttle."

"Then you know that this baby is an intra-system-type shuttle. That they're meant for travel between starships, in space. Chances are we'll fail to make it into orbit and plummet back into the sea."

Ruda bit her lip. She didn't know that.

"Just so you know," Rob said, fiddling with his axe. "So that if we fall to our deaths, we can get past all the awkward questions."

"So nice of you to have thought this through," Ruda murmured, walking up to the shuttle and entering in her personal code, just like she'd done when entering the hanger. "Jackass."

Rob didn't answer. He was already on his way to the hanger doors.

Entering the shuttle, the first thing Ruda did was take off her helmet. The second thing she did was lay her axe down while she scratched her cheek, ignoring the flaky skin, as if she'd suffered sunburn. The third was to walk to the cockpit, glancing at the quintet of stasis pods that existed in the central area, before entering the activation sequence. _Isis_-class shuttles were mainly automated, designed for ease of use rather than for any special considerations, such as speed, manoeuvrability, or ECM considerations. And it one of these shuttles that the _Gehanna _had stored on C deck, where its hanger was situated. The only craft it had bar the escape pods on the deck below.

**Please enter personal code.**

Ruda did so. Only one person was required to activate one of the shuttles. One to activate them, another to release the airlock latches, which would fully open the door once a handshake signal was sent by the shuttle. Glancing out through the cockpit, Ruda could see Rob was already on his way.

**Personal code accepted. Ruda, I.J. **

"Come on," the scientist whispered, directing her words to both Rob (at the airlock) and the computer. "Come on…"

**Airlock code accepted. McPhail, R.L.**

_Nice to hear it. Now hurry up._

The computer wasn't. And Rob wasn't. The jock was taking his sweet time getting back to the shuttle. And the computer wasn't helping either.

**Safety protocols dictate that it is best that airlock be clear of personnel before initiating start sequence. Do you**

Ruda pressed the "y" button.

**Are you sure?**

Ruda pressed it again.

**Request accepted. Beginning pre-flight sequence.**

_Hurry up!_

**Confirming immediate personnel. Ruda, I.J.**

The scientist lay back on her seat. It was nearly over. The only manual thing the pilot was required to do was to provide confirmation of certain steps of the sequence, and do some manual tasks themselves, such as releasing the docking clamps and sending the handshake code to open the doors. After that, it was smooth flying. Bar the whole challenge of getting into orbit of course, subsequently activating a distress beacon then getting into stasis.

**McPhail, R.L.**

A stasis in which Rob would be joining her. Provided he stopped playing with his axe, even dropping the damn thing and turning around to pick it up.

_Idiot. He-_

**Mordain, W.C.H.**

_What?_

**All personnel in immediate vicinity accounted for. **

"Wait wait wait," Ruda whispered, typing at the keys. "Go back. Go back."

**Beginning activation sequence.**

"Back!" she yelled, hitting the keys. It did no good.

"Shit!"

Ruda ran back to the stasis pods, grabbing her helmet. It could be nothing. Probably _was _nothing. She _hoped _it was nothing. Opening the shuttle door and staring at it as it slowly rose, she _told _herself it was nothing.

Seeing the disfigured but recognisable face of Wheaton Mordain staring right back at her, Isabelle Ruda realized that the truth was about as far away from nothing as it was possible to be.

* * *

"No!"

It couldn't have been more than a few seconds. For a few seconds, he'd turned around to pick up his axe, having dropped it after fiddling around with it in the midst of his elation of getting off this damn planet. And in the midst of those few seconds, one of the infected had entered the hanger. Had approached the shuttle Ruda was in. A shuttle whose hatch was sliding up, revealing "Bella" herself. Without a helmet.

So he'd shouted. He'd run. As the thing raised its arm to strike at her, he ploughed into it, sending the two sprawling onto the floor.

"Get it going!" he yelled to the scientist. "I-"

The thing kicked him off. It sprang to its feet. It looked down at him.

_Mordain?_

It looked like the captain. Certainly it looked male at least. But its face was hard. Black. So was the rest of its skin. Like the boot that came down to his chest.

"Gah!"

Rob yelled as the foot made contact with him, falling down and losing his grip on the fire axe. The HE-suit could provide protection from impacts, but not automatically.

"Ugh!"

Which didn't help with the second blow either.

Rob gasped for air, his breath misting up against his visor. Looking up, he saw a helmet fly through the air, presumably thrown by Ruda in an effort to get Mordain off him.

The zombie caught it. Rob tried to get up. The helmet was smashed against his own.

_I…can't…_

The rig worker's head swum, swirling like the sea outside the ship, while his ears rang like an alarm bell. Yet he saw Mordain look up. Saw him throw the helmet aside. Saw him get ready to charge at Ruda.

_Crap!_

Rob threw out an arm, grabbing Mordain's leg as he ran. How a zombie could run, how it could do anything like what the captain had shown himself to be capable of, how he'd reached that stage from the point of not being able to open doors, he didn't know. But for all his skills, he couldn't stop himself from falling over.

Rob got to his feet, his head still pounding, a hum filling his ears. Mordain rolled onto his back. He looked at him. _Glared _at him.

Rob grabbed the fire axe. Mordain sprang up. He brought the axe down. The zombie grabbed the shaft.

_Oh, son of a-!_

It went to strike at him but stopped. It turned around. Rob followed its gaze. Ruda, armed with a grapple gun. Taken from the shuttle no doubt. Standing there, its chord attached to its tip embedded in Mordain's back.

It pulled it out. It tossed it aside. It might have attacked her if not for Rob grabbing it by the waist and throwing it aside, causing it to lose its grip on his axe. Enough to disorientate it. To grab the axe and swing it into Mordain's neck. Repeatedly.

"Just! Fucking! Die!"

Each blow made contact. With each blow, Mordain screeched. With each blow, black goo seeped out of his neck, the wound opening more and more each time. As hard and strong as the captain had become, he couldn't stand up to such an assault. So after five blows, Rob watched with a mixture of horror and gratification, as Mordain's head became separated from his shoulders.

_Finally._

Time seemed to slow as the rig worker watched the captain's head fall. He'd done it. He'd killed him. He'd killed a man who he knew even less about than Anna Chapel. He'd killed a man, didn't know who to tell, and if the EPC tracked down any friends or relatives, how would they break the news that he was dead. Would they include decapitation in their account of things? Or stick with some bullshit about death being swift and painless?

In that slow period of time, Rob remembered on reflecting how he did not want to die anonymously, back at the medical bay.

It was a desire he still held.

Which might not be a wish that was granted. Because time stopped slowing as he saw something else happen. Watched as the head stopped falling as black goo shot out of Mordain's neck, grabbing the head. Watched, stepping back, as his head was brought back to being above his shoulders, suspended above the body through oily tentacles.

"Oh come on," Rob whispered. "That isn't fair."

He could have sworn that the thing was grinning at him.

He swore vocally as more tentacles extended from the neck, ripping off its arms, only for more oily tentacles to take their place. Like a mutated octopus that was the bastard offspring of Cthulhu.

Rob kept backing away. Ruda, who'd retrieved the grapple gun and her helmet, stood beside him.

"I don't think you have an axe big enough for this," she whispered.

The rig worker grabbed it all the same. Yet they still backed away, as the…_thing _advanced on them. Rob wasn't sure if he could even call it a zombie. It hadn't acted like a zombie in the last few minutes, and it sure as hell wasn't acting like a zombie now. It had gotten smarter, deadlier, and his removal of its head had only put a new weight on his own shoulders.

"Rob," Ruda whispered, still backing away. "If you've got a plan…I'd like to hear it."

_Oh that's right, you want a plan! Useless, absolutely useless! You…for Christ's sake, what's that humming!?_

Not from his head, as Rob realized. Not from Ruda, who was looking around too. Not from the creature either, who'd stopped its advance and was glancing at the shuttle. The shuttle whose engines were beginning to vibrate quite loudly and violently.

"Move!"

Rob didn't know if he'd said it, or Ruda had. But they were both running, then diving away from the ship as its engines fired up, then let loose a stream of flame.

**Schreeee!**

Rob glanced back at the ship, then creature, caught up in the stream of fire. It screamed. It writhed. It tried to run out of the inferno, but its legs gave way, the flesh oozing and bubbling like a tar pit. Along with the rest of the oil-like substance that bound it.

**Schreeeeeee! Raagh! Keeee…ahhh…**

How much of Mordain was left in that skull, Rob wondered. Enough to experience being burnt alive?

"Rob, come on!"

Ruda dragged him to his feet.

"The manual release!" she yelled. "It's still locked! It-"

…gave way.

Ruda leaving the shuttle in place had saved their lives. But it had also perhaps doomed them. Because as Rob's gaze was turned from the creature to the shuttle, he watched in horror as the docking clamps gave way, weakened by the intense heat. He watched as they snapped, the shuttle shooting forward like a starfighter from a carrier. Only in this case, the hatch door was closed.

"Shit!"

That word summed it up. Ruda grabbed Rob, he grabbed her in turn. They ran to the exit. Ran as the shuttle hit the airlock door. Ran as alarms sounded. Ran as shards of superheated metal rained down all around them, scattering all over the hanger. Ran out into the corridor outside the hanger bay, closing the door behind them.

**Fire detected in the hanger, **droned a loudspeaker.** All personnel evacuate immediately. Fire safety protocols enacted in t-minus ten seconds.**

"No," Ruda whispered, lying down against the wall. "No…no no no!"

**Five…four…three…**

Rob leant down opposite her. He fingered his axe. She fingered the grapple gun.

**Two…one…enacting protocol.**

Rob listened to the hiss of halon flooding the hanger bay. In a few seconds, the fire would be out. In a few minutes, they could go back in there. To survey what was left of their only ride out of here.

"We're going to die here. Aren't we?"

Rob glanced at the only other human onboard. She glanced at him.

**Suppression protocol complete. Personnel may now enter the hanger.**

And unlike the loudspeaker, he didn't have anything to say.

* * *

_A/N_

_Isn't too much to say in regards to this chapter. The initial conception actually involved two shuttles, where the same FUBAR would occur with one of them, that would lead to the destruction of the other. However, writing that, something felt...wrong, somehow. Not intense enough. Luckily I wasn't too far into the chapter when I felt this, so I went back and changed it to just one. Which also felt more 'right' somehow in light of the _Nostromo_, how it had a single shuttle that couldn't even take the entire crew. 22nd century safety regs are stingy like that._


	4. Eye of the Storm

**Prometheus: The New Black Gold**

**Chapter 4: Eye of the Storm**

"We're going to die. Aren't we?"

Ruda had barely spoken since they'd headed away from the hanger, but it was these words that hung on Rob's mind. Hung on it as the two had made their way back down to D-deck, as they passed section A-1 and entered A-2. Had hung on it as he'd followed Ruda the entire time, right up to when she entered the storage room.

"So, Doc?" Rob asked. "What's the plan?"

She didn't answer. She just entered the room and started looking at the tools mounted on the racks.

"I mean, okay, the shuttle's destroyed," Rob said, slightly louder than last time. "But it can't be the only plan, right?"

Ruda remained silent. She kept searching.

"Hey, I'm talking about plans," the rig worker said, entering the room himself. "So what's the plan?!"

"There is none."

Rob stopped walking.

"There's no plan," Ruda murmured. "Like I said, we're going to die."

Rob gripped the fire-axe. He remained silent otherwise.

"Ah, here we are."

Ruda walked over to him. In her hands were a pair of blow torches."

"Well, if the shuttle was any indication, maybe fire's the key," she said, handing one to Rob. "Maybe this'll help us."

"To do what?"

Ruda didn't answer. She flicked on the blow torch, then turned it off, apparently satisfied that it worked. She then sat down against a wall, taking her helmet off.

"To do _what_?" Rob repeated.

She still didn't answer.

"Hey!"

The rig worker started walking over to her, placing his blow torch on a shelf and gripping the fire axe even harder than before.

"Doc, what's the-"

He stopped short. For the only other human onboard was pointing the grapple gun at him.

"This isn't a weapon," she said. "But even with that suit on, I bet it'll do some damage."

"You threatening me?"

"No, I'm telling you in my own way not to do anything stupid. And to piss off so I can die on my own time in my own way."

Rob slunk to the ground. He took off his helmet and dropped the axe. He glanced back at the entrance, satisfied to see that the door was shut. He glanced back at Ruda.

"You look like shit."

"Why thank you Rob, that comment means a lot to me."

"No, I mean…your face," he said, gesturing to the discolouration that had consumed one cheek and had spread to another. "You look like…like…"

"I'm infected."

Rob stared at her.

"Oh, it's true," Ruda said. "I was infected back in the kitchen. Found out back in the lab. This oil? It can spread just through touching the skin. Probably how poor Will got the bug."

Rob started rising to his feet.

"Yeah, you're pissed off," Ruda murmured. "I insisted on testing. I lied to you…partly. You're not infected, at least according to the blood sample. But I-"

"Lied."

"Yes, Rob, I lied," she said, gazing at him. "I lied because guess what? I didn't want to die. I wanted to get in the shuttle, get into stasis, and hope that once we'd reached colonial space, talk to people who might be able to do something about it." She chuckled. "It kind of helps actually. I know I'm going to die. Poor you though…you still have that faint glimmer of hope that's going to make what's left of your life a living hell."

Rob picked up his axe. He gripped it. Ruda stared at him.

Rob screamed. The axe came down. It hit one of the shelves.

"Gah!"

"Um, Rob?"

He wasn't listening. The axe kept coming down.

"Rob!"

He threw his helmet at Ruda. The axe came down. Again. And again.

"Rob!"

Ruda walked over. Without thinking, he swung his axe at her. Swung it so hard that it escaped his hand, flying over to another shelf. He barely noticed. Because he followed up the blow by tackling the scientist to the ground.

"Liar!" He yelled, trying to bring his fists past her hands and make contact with her smug, discoloured face. "Liar liar liar!"

The fists kept coming down. Until Ruda kicked him in the gut, sending him sprawling backwards.

"You'll pay!" he yelled, activating the blow torch. "You'll-"

He stopped. Ruda had got to her feet as well. The grapple gun was pointed at him again, but unlike before, she seemed willing to use it.

"Go on, shoot," he rasped. "Do it."

"I don't want to."

"You…you…"

"What did _I _do?" Ruda whispered. "Nothing to you. You…you and Will…you released the oil! You did this! It's your fault!"

"Don't talk to me about fault! I didn't sign up for this! I didn't want this! I didn't take a job to fight oil zombies!"

"**And neither did I!"**

Ruda stumbled forward. She seemed to have trouble breathing.

"Bella?" Rob asked.

She glared at him.

"Yes, I said 'Bella,'" the rig worker snarled. "What's wrong with you?"

"It's…" She took a deep breath. "It's nothing."

"Like hell it's nothing."

"Fine, then it's probably the infection taking hold."

"What about Will though? It didn't take him long to be consumed."

Ruda shrugged. "Different genomes, different genders, different ages…how should I know?"

"You're a scientist."

Ruda laughed. "Scientist. Right. You make it sound like it's an occupation that has the answer to everything."

She turned around, heading back to her corner before lying against the wall again. Rob remained standing.

He couldn't hate Ruda. Not now. Because he had to admit, if the roles were reversed, he'd have probably kept her in the dark as well. And the shuttle…she'd destroyed it, but keeping it in place might have saved their lives. Had proven that the creatures that were once his crewmembers had a weakness.

_Is a blowtorch enough though?_

"Okay," Rob said, picking up the tool of his thoughts and starting to move around. "Plans. Let's talk plans."

"Sit here and wait to die."

"If you're sitting around, you can at least help me," he said, still fingering to the torch. "So please. Lay it out for me."

Ruda chuckled. "Lay it out for you? Alright Robbie, I'll do that."

She took another breath. And Rob could tell it wasn't just because a speech was coming on.

"Let's ignore me for a sec," she said. "Let's focus on your situation. There's no way off this ship, thanks to the last shuttle being destroyed. I'm assuming you don't know how to fly a _Behemoth_-class starfreighter, and since I can't either, that means the ship isn't going anywhere either. There's a pair of escape pods on each level of the ship, but they'll only take you into the ocean, and you'd only last maybe a week at best in them."

"You really know how to brighten my day, don't you?" Rob asked.

Ruda chuckled. "Well, it gets worse, because even if I can stomach killing myself before becoming the next member of the walking dead, you've still got Will and Anna walking about, and if Mordain was any indication, they'll become harder to deal with as time goes on. So while you have enough food and air to last a few months, your chances of surviving that long are slim. And even if a rescue ship _does _turn up, there'd be no reason for them to do so due to the expected travel time."

Rob sighed. It was true. He might be able to survive. But that was a "might" that depended on his ability to incapacitate his foes and ration his food, water, and air consumption for the better part of a year. It-

"What about a distress signal?" he asked.

Ruda glanced at him.

"A distress signal," he said. "Like what we intended with the shuttle. The ship has one, right?"

"Yeah…so?"

"So," Rob said, walking over to Ruda and kneeling down. "We go up to the bridge. We activate a distress signal. The nearest ship comes to help us."

"There's no _us,_" Ruda murmured.

"There might be, if we get you in stasis."

"And if you don't?" she asked. "And besides, we're talking about bringing a ship to OA-one-nine-six. What if they're infected too? What if they spread it?"

Rob was tempted to point out that she'd toyed with the same risk, but decided against it.

"Distress signals are automated, non-vocal," Ruda said. "I mean, maybe I could create a custom one, but…why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like a prepubescent who's seen a naked girl for the first time."

Rob's grin faded.

"Anyway, your plan could work," Ruda said. "So have fun with it."

"You're coming too."

Rob picked up his axe. He extended an arm to Ruda.

"Why would I do that?" Ruda asked.

"Because I'll need you for that distress signal," Rob answered. "And you'll need me to get you into stasis."

"And the zombies?"

"I'll deal with them."

Ruda snorted.

"Look, like it or not, I need you to stand a chance of getting off this cesspool alive," Rob said. "And like it or not, I'm your best chance of ensuring that you stand a chance of being cured."

"And what makes you think I even care?"

"Don't you? You telling me that there's no part of you that wants to stay alive?"

"You tell me."

"Well I think there is. Otherwise you'd have used that grapple gun on yourself already."

Ruda remained silent. But she got to her feet, though to Rob's dismay, it was a motion that was taking a toll on her. She had trouble finding her breath. As she walked over to him, he could see that her steps were uneven. Taking the initiative, he put her suit's helmet on for her.

"Alright Rob, I'll help," she said softly. "But I want you to promise me something."

Rob nodded.

"Sirius B-two, Greyhound Dome, habitat unit fifty-five, Barbara Ruda."

"What?"

"Planet…dome…home…wife," Ruda whispered.

Rob stared at her.

"What?"

Rob stopped staring.

"You may live, I may life, but my money's…on you," Bella whispered. "So in the event that I'm correct, that you live and I don't…just tell her…that I was thinking of her…at the end."

"Sure," he said softly. They began walking. "But with any luck, you can tell her yourself."

* * *

"I…I don't…I can't…"

"Come on, keep moving."

"Don't…want…"

"Bella!"

Ruda groaned, but not because of Rob's comment. It was her body that was lodging protest. Her limbs were aching. Her chest felt like it was on fire. Every breath escaped with the words "stop!"

"Hey, we're nearly there," said another voice. The same voice that always overrode her bodies. "A deck. We're on A deck. The bridge isn't far."

"I…great…"

It wasn't great. They were indeed on A deck, and throughout the entire time, there'd been no sign of Will or Ruda. But with every passing second, it felt like it was becoming more and more likely she'd be joining their number.

"Rob…talk to me," she whispered.

"What?"

"Just…anything," the scientist wheezed. "Something…to think about."

"Like?"

"I…dunno…y..you?"

_I'm going to die._

A tear trickled down her cheek. She didn't care if Rob saw. But she'd given him her details. Maybe it would be nice to get his.

"Um…well, I was born on Ganymede," the rig worker said, still helping Ruda along as he did so. "Lived there until…well, technically, I still live there. Just, took a job with the EPC and that's how I ended up here."

Ruda inhaled.

"Yeah, not the most exciting life I know," Rob said, smiling sheepishly. "Parents are dead if you want drama. Longer you work outside the domes, the higher the chance of radiation poisoning. Jupiter's a bitch like that."

Ruda inhaled.

"Got a brother though. Last I heard he was still on the moon, in the silicon mines. Pay's good, even if the work sucks. Of course, this sucks even more but-"

Ruda retched.

She fell forward, breaking Rob's grip on her.

"Ruda!"

"I…don't…"

Like a caged animal desperate to get free, she tore off her helmet. She leant forward and opened her mouth.

"Gah!"

She vomited. Out came slush that was from the dinner that felt like it had been eaten a lifetime ago. Out came lunch. Out came breakfast.

"Easy, easy."

Rob knelt by her, putting his hands on her shoulders, steadying her.

"Ugh…"

Before long, the food was gone. Then came the water.

"I…I…"

Ruda fell backwards. The fire that was in her lungs had spread to her stomach.

"Nice," Rob said, smiling, but failing to fool her into thinking it was anything but a façade. "Might have to clean that up."

"I bet you ah!"

And out came the rest of it. Blood. Blood that was far darker than it should be.

"Shit."

That about summed it up, Ruda supposed. She felt like shit. She was _in _shit. She supposed she should be grateful she wasn't shit_ting _because there was no way she'd get her suit off as fast as she had her helmet.

The scientist moaned as the next stream of blood escaped her mouth, mixing with everything else that was on the floor. But as she lay there, hands on the ground, her head facing towards it, she found it was the last one.

"Come on," Rob whispered, trying to get her up.

"No…I can't…"

"You can," he said sharply. "You're going into stasis."

"Stasis?" she rasped, wiping away the slush that had formed around her mouth during the evacuation of her innards. "What about the signal?" You-"

"Screw it. You're going into stasis."

"No," the scientist whispered, breaking free of Rob's grip and staggering forward. "I'm not. Not until the job is done."

Rob had all the weapons. The axes, the grapple gun, the blowtorches. Even the helmet she'd taken off. As she staggered down the hall, as she fell into a wall, only to keep going, she knew he could have used any of them to slow her down. His hands alone could have done the job. But she kept going. She could see the entrance to the bridge. It was open.

_I'm going to die. I'm going to send out the distress call. I'm going to die. I…turn into one of them? Die. Kill Rob too? Infected. Signal. Signal. Signal._

"Come on," Ruda said, leaning against the wall by the open hatch. Rob cautiously followed her. "Let's get it over with."

Ruda stumbled through the opening.

_Huh. Figures._

After sickbay, after all that had happened, she wasn't surprised at the mess the place was in. Items scattered over the floor, some blood on one of the consoles. What was different from sickbay were the shell casings and the pistol by the chair at the far end of the room.

"Mordain had a gun?" Rob asked, walking over and picking up the weapon. "From where?"

"Former…service…" Ruda rasped.

"Huh?"

"Captain…military? Just…guessing."

"Huh."

Ruda stumbled over. She stumbled forward. Rob helped her keep moving.

"Burns…it burns…"

"Come on," he said. "Just get out the signal. Any signal. Then-"

"Can't…"

"Stasis then!" he yelled.

"No…signal…I'll send…signal."

Ruda collapsed into the captain's chair. She leant over to the terminal in front of her. The master console. She briefly glanced up at the outside world. It was dark, but she could see the rain battering against the windows, carried by a fierce wind. The seas were raging. The rig below was as silent as the grave.

_Grave. Stasis. Death._

"I'd do it myself, really," Rob said as he put the pistol and all of their gear on the windowsill that separated the terminals from the plexiglas that separated them from the hostile environment outside. "I just…can't."

"I…k…know," Ruda whispered as she began typing, every tap of the keys feeling like a dagger in her fingertips. "It's why…you're…worker."

"Hardy hah hah."

Ruda wasn't laughing. Breathing hurt too much for that.

_Distress signals, distress signals…stress…stress…so much stress. In stress. Pain. Send stress. Dis pain. Stress signal. Stress._

**Distress broadcast activated.**

_Stress!_

Ruda collapsed back in the chair, exhaling. Her breath felt rotten. This situation felt rotten. She felt rotten knowing that she'd never see Barbara again. But for all the rottenness, all the pain, she was still able to swing the chair round again. Ready to go into stasis in the slight hope that she could be saved.

_Oh no._

Hope that was dashed.

_No._

"Oh, shit!"

_No!_

Hope that was swallowed up by the hulking monstrosity that had just walked in.

_Join us._

Ruda blinked. That thought. It wasn't her own.

But the 'thing' took up the rest of her thought process. The 'thing' that she could tell was once Anna Chapel, if only for the slightly feminine face that stood atop a hulking body seven feet tall. Like a gorilla, but with petrified skin.

_They're changing. Even more than Mordain._

The 'thing' screeched and charged. Ruda fell out of her chair and crawled as fast as she could. Gunshots echoed throughout the bridge.

"Ah, shit!"

She glanced over her shoulder as Rob tried to avoid Chapel's charge. He partially succeeded, but one of her gorilla-like arms hit him, knocking the pistol out of his hands.

"Shit!"

Ruda got to her feet. The thing was advancing on Rob. The rig worker was cornered, and she could see that the bullets had had barely any effect, if at all. All that was left were the blowtorches, axes, and grapple gun.

_Barbara. Rob. Anna._

The fire spread through her as she ran forward. She grabbed an axe. She swung it. It hit the thing's right arm. It barely got through its flesh.

_Fire. Barbara. Rob fire._

The thing spun around. It swatted her aside.

_Fire!_

Ruda hit the ground on her chest. Something 'cracked' within it. She tried to get up, the fire having become wild. She slumped back down after coughing up even more blood. Now even darker.

The thing started lumbering towards her.

"Come on!"

It was Rob's voice. She thought. Her vision was becoming darker.

_Like oil._

Rob was standing there. In his black HE-suit.

_Like oil._

He grabbed the other axe with his right hand while in his left was one of the blow torches.

_Black gold._

"Come on," she heard him say, brandishing both steel and fire.

_Fire!_

"Come on!"

The thing roared. Rob swung the axe. It didn't even make contact as the creature swatted him up into the air. Over consoles. Through the windows.

"Rob!"

Icy wind flew into the room, along with the water it carried. An alarm sounded. A voice said words Ruda could barely hear.

_No! Rob!_

Rob was gone. His axe and blowtorch were gone with him.

**Sealing off breach.**

Blast shields descended over the windows. The wind stopped. The thing hissed. The only thing that had changed beside that was that Rob's flying body had sent the grapple gun, helmet, and other blowtorch onto the floor beside her.

_Shit!_

Shit. So much shit. Pistol on one side of the room, ineffective. Axe. Ineffective. Blow torch. Impractical without drawing what counted as blood, and so far, the thing that was once Anna Chapel had yet to spill any. The grapple gun? Maybe, but…Ruda grabbed it. And the torch. Then she started back-crawling away.

"Anna?" she asked, fighting the pain inside her. "You in there?"

The thing kept advancing.

"Anna, if you're there…" Ruda whispered, tightening her grip on the grapple gun. "Now's the time to say it."

It kept walking. It sniffed. From its humanoid, somewhat fleshy head. Flesh that was in stark difference to the rest of the body.

_Head…Mordain's body was different. Maybe now…_

_Dead. It rhymed with head._

"Anna," Ruda sniffed, fighting the fire, fighting the water, fighting the black gold. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

It kept advancing.

_Dead. It rhymes with dread._

"But I have to do this."

Ruda grabbed the grapple gun. The thing stopped in its tracks.

_Dead. That's all._

Ruda fired.

"I'm so sorry."

The grapple sailed through the air. It hit Anna's head. It embedded itself in it.

**Grahhh!**

The thing recoiled. Its hands, woefully oversized, flailed about as they tried to locate the iron embedded in it. It gave Ruda enough time to put her helmet on. Enough time to get to her feet with the blowtorch in hand. The fire neared the oil pouring from the open wound.

**Grah! Aie! Rah!**

Ruda wanted to say something. But as she opened her mouth, blood came out, stopping her from talking. Or what she thought was blood. Because as she coughed, as it splattered against her visor, it looked so dark she couldn't be sure it _was _blood anymore.

_Goodbye, Anna, _Ruda thought, taking up the flame to what amounted to blood in the form that awaited her. _It's the end._

The fire touched the blood. The blood ignited. The fire spread. It consumed the creature's visage.

And the thing that was once Anna Chapel _screamed_.

Ruda sat down on the captain's chair. She watched it flail. She watched it collapse. She watched it die.

And shivering from the cold, she just sat there.

* * *

The wind howled. The sea surged. Rain pattered against the metal of the rig. And Rob groaned.

**Warning. Suit integrity compromised. Please submit for maintenance.**

_Ugh…_

**Warning. Warning. Warning.**

_Can't…_

**Please submit for maintenance.**

_Did it work?_

**Warning. Warning. Warning.**

_Oh shut up._

Rob pressed his hands against the rig surface, lifting himself up. It had worked. That he was alive and able to move at all was testament to this. As he's sailed through the air, he'd activated the suit's kinetic failsafe. Its surface would increase in density and thickness, designed to protect the user.

_Not prevent pain though._

It was a process that also consumed a lot of energy. So with the helmet's HUD having activated, Rob could see that not only was it warning him to get it repaired, but it had used up 50 percent of its energy reserves. And with the HUD having been activated, with air having to be delivered, that percentage was going down.

_Great._

It sucked. Rob picked up the axe and blowtorch that he'd fallen down with and turned around, only to slip down onto the rig thanks to the slippery surface. The window. The creature. The-

_Ruda!_

He got up. He staggered across the rig to the airlock, glancing up at the bridge as he did so. The emergency shutters had come down, but that meant that Ruda was-

"Rob?"

He stopped short.

"Rob?"

"Ruda?" he asked.

"Good. Radio's…working."

"You okay?" he asked, stumbling over to the airlock. "Anna? Is she-"

"Dead. Yeah…dead. All dead. You?"

"Suit cushioned my fall. All good."

"Good."

Ruda didn't sound 'good,' and that it was the only word she'd used to describe her condition didn't fill her colleague with much confidence. It spurred Rob to stumble forward even faster.

"Can you move?" he asked. "I'm heading to the airlock now. I can head up to the bridge and-"

"There's no need for that."

Rob stopped in his tracks. He stood there, ignoring the wind and rain. He turned up the volume of his helmet radio.

"Ruda?" he asked. "Seriously. Are you-"

"I'm dead Rob."

The wind howled like a wolf, once mourning, now screaming.

"The infection. It's too late. My blood…I can feel it…Rob."

"Ruda," the rig worker said firmly. "Don't go there. We can get you into stasis."

"Anna's head was…the weak spot. Maybe it's mine."

"Ruda," Rob repeated, still standing there. "What are you-"

"Mordain's pistol…there's still bullets in it."

"Ruda!"

Rob ran. Ran to the airlock.

"Don't do this!" he yelled as he ran. "Don't-"

He slipped. He fell.

"Just…one…bullet."

"Bella! Listen to me!"

"Tell Barbara, Rob. Tell her."

"No."

Ruda said something muffled. The words weren't clear.

_She's put aside the helmet._

"Ruda," Rob said. "Don't do this. It's not too late. I'll come up. I'll-"

"Rob…to tell the truth…I like hot chocolate too."

_Hot chocolate? _

Silence filled the other end. Rob lay there. He didn't dare get up, as if just moving would trigger the pulling of the…trigger.

"Ruda?" he whispered. "Bella? Doc? You there?"

There was more silence. Silence that not even the wind could defeat.

"You okay? You with me?"

The silence continued.

"Ruda, you-"

"Goodbye Rob."

The silence was broken. By a gunshot.

"**Ruda!"**

Rob lay there. He pounded the ground with his fists. Again. And again. And again.

"**No! No!"**

The fists kept coming down.

"**God dammit! God! God fuck you!"**

He looked up at the bridge, sealed off from the world. Like a tomb. Water pattered the outside of his visor. Water was found on the inside of his visor.

"No."

And his vision lowered. His hands were still curled, but they remained in place as he rested his helmet on them, closing his eyes as he did so.

"It's not fair."

William Everton. Isabelle Ruda. Anna Chapel. Wheaton Mordain. All dead. All consumed by this…_disease_. They were dead because they were doing their jobs, and had been killed off by an uncaring organism in an uncaring universe.

"**It's not fair!"**

And he was alive. The only human left on this planet. The only truly living _creature _on this planet. Certainly the only creature who had the capability to lie on the ground and weep. Ruda's death had been the catalyst. But her death was no more or less important than any of the others. And he, Robert McPhail, a jock from Ganymede who hadn't even set foot on Earth, was the survivor.

He lay there. Silently. Ignoring the wind. The rain. The flashing HUD. He just lay there.

"Not fair…"

Lay there until he felt something grab his shoulder.

Instinctively, Rob sprang up. His axe was in one hand, the blow torch was in the other. Something was before him.

"Lights," he whispered.

The helmet's lights activated. And Rob saw the one standing before him.

"No…"

The rig worker stood there and stared.

"Hello Rob."

And apart from those words, not moving at all, Will just stood there and stared right back at him.

* * *

_A/N_

_It was a matter of some internal debate for me as to when Ruda's condition should be revealed, whether she should have told Rob from the outset, revealed it immediately after the shuttle, or reveal it at the very last moment. Ended up settling on the version you've (presumably) read above._


	5. Cleansing Fire

**Prometheus: The New Black Gold**

**Chapter 5: Cleansing Fire**

It looked like Will. It talked like Will. If not for its black, liquidious body, Rob might have mistaken it for actually _being _Will.

"You're not Will."

So he said the words. To remind himself that his friend was dead. And this creature, this phantom that had taken his friend's body, was nothing more than a ghost.

"No. I'm not."

Rob kept staring. The creature just stood there. It even put its liquid hands into liquid pockets.

"This…you…"

"Mutation. Evolution. I am my own stage."

"Stage?"

"Surely you've noticed…Rob, isn't it? Surely you noticed that the other infected reacted differently to our touch. My template succumbed quickly. The one the one called Anna fought on your…bridge, is it? Your place. She lasted longer."

Rob kept staring. Even the creature's voice was the same as his friend's. How he could talk he didn't know, but its mouth moved and sound came out. Sound that could be heard over the song of wind and water that raged in the skies above and seas below.

"And so here we are," the creature said. "You are the last of your kind on this world. I am the first of mine. At least in this form."

Rob backed away. The creature was just talking, as if they were two biologists on a documentary.

"Are you afraid?" the creature asked.

"What would you know of fear?" Rob whispered.

"I know that fear is an emotional response to a chemical process that occurs in your body, designed to keep you alive in the face of danger. That you are standing here is testament to the effectiveness of that process."

Rob stopped backing away. The creature kept standing there.

"We are linked," he said. "What others learn, I know. I know you call yourselves human beings. I know there are billions of you, scattered throughout the sky above." He gestured to the clouds. "Things we never knew of before."

Rob began walking, to try and see the creature from another angle. It started circling with him in turn. As if studying him also.

"What are you?" Rob whispered.

"We simply are."

"No. We're humans. What do you call yourselves?"

"We do not. We simply are."

Rob kept circling. He tightened his grip on his axe and blow torch. The creature didn't appear to possess the brute force Chapel had been endowed with, nor the flexibility of Mordain. But he wasn't going to let his guard down. Not now. Not ever.

"It is strange," the creature continued. "You are like the others."

"Others? What others?"

"Those who came before. Those who found us on this world. Studied us. Took samples of us for our own. Those who imprisoned us when they saw the…threat, we posed." He stopped walking. "You are like them. And us."

"We're nothing like you," Rob hissed.

"Your biology disagrees. Biologically, you are like them. Sociologically, you are like them. And yet, you are like us. Some of us resides within you already."

"Bullshit."

"It is strange. But true."

The creature stood still. And then it extended its head. A black, waxy neck, joining a liquid body to a semi-solid head.

"Well, no matter," the creature whispered. "It is all said and done."

Rob took a step back. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean there is nothing left to say. We shall take this ship."

"Why?" Rob asked. "What could you want?"

"Opportunity. We know there are other worlds. Some are harsh. Some are better suited for reproduction. We are native to this world. We self-replicate. But your biological material can speed up the process. And on worlds where other biomass exists, we could do the same."

Rob raised his axe. The creature spun its head around to be upside down.

"Does this scare you?" it asked.

"No," Rob lied.

"Why?"

"Because you can't leave. You can't fly this ship."

"We can. We know how from your captain. And even if we couldn't, if your…voice across the stars is heard, there will be other opportunities."

Rob opened his mouth. Everything…everything was going to hell. Entire worlds. This thing. It would…

_No._

"You released us," the creature said. "There are more of us in your tanks that you wished to transport us in. There are more of us in the pipe from which this host was first taken." It retracted its head back. "Now all that is left for you to do is join us."

Rob stood there. The wind howled. The creature stood there. Lightning flashed across the sky.

"Over my dead body."

And fire was returned as the blow torch was activated. He ran at the creature, yelling.

The creature's right arm shot out, grabbing him by the throat.

"Gah!"

It lifted him up.

"This is over!" the creature yelled.

Rob tried to get the blow torch to the arm. The other arm shot out, knocking it out of his hand.

"Shit!"

Rob watched as the torch sailed through the air, off the platform, into the raging sea.

"Fire, is it called?" the creature asked. "Your source of life. Source of death for us. But without it, you're nothing."

"Yeah?" Rob asked. "Well, let's see what iron can do."

The axe came down. The arm had become more solid than it had been before, in order to keep him in the air. So when iron met oil, oil fell to the ground.

The creature screeched and stumbled back, retracting its left arm to reach the stump of its right. Rob hadn't cut that far up the arm, but all of it had come off. Writhing on the rig, as if it were its own entity, before falling still. Dead. Like a fallen tree.

Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. Rob got to his feet, gripping the axe in his right hand while the creature flexed its left.

"Come on," he whispered. "Bring it."

The creature charged. He charged. Will was dead, he told himself. Now was just a formality.

Rob yelled. The creature screamed. The axe came down.

"Ugh!"

But it didn't make contact as the creature slammed into him, knocking off his aim. The two rolled across the rig, in death's embrace.

"Just! Die!"

Rob punched its face. Once. Twice. The third went through.

"What the?"

And the face shifted across the surface, merging with its left shoulder, before forming a new head.

Rob's eyes widened. Especially when the creature kicked him with both its feet, sending him flying through the air.

"Shit!"

He landed hard on the surface. He slid across it. Sliding towards the edge.

"**Shit!"**

He fell off. He grabbed the edge with his left hand, still holding the axe with his right.

_Shit shit shit!_

Rob struggled to get up while keeping his weapon. He managed to do so partially, resting his stomach on the edge of the rig.

_Fuck._

Things had gotten worse when he saw the creature running across the rig towards him. It charged. Rob climbed.

The creature ran. Rob lay there. And as it neared him, he rolled towards it, tripping it up.

"Yes!"

The creature stumbled. The creature fell.

"See you in Hell you-"

The creature's arm grabbed the edge of the rig. It flung itself back up.

It landed by him.

"Die," it hissed.

Rob brought down his axe. The creature's arm shot out. The result was that it grabbed Rob's throat while the axe embedded itself in its shoulder.

"Die," it hissed again.

Rob choked. He brought the axe down again and again. But it was having no effect. The creature's body wasn't solid enough for it to do any harm. In the meantime, he could barely breathe.

**Warning. Warning. Suit integrity compromised.**

Rob brought the axe up again. The creature kept choking him. The axe came down into its left arm.

The creature let go. The axe remained in its arm. It had done some damage, but the creature had learnt from last time seemingly, and had reverted its arm to a more liquidious state just before the axe hit.

"You are without weapon," it hissed.

"And you sound pissed off," Rob sneered.

"We do not piss."

"Yeah. Figures."

Rob started walking sideways, and the creature did in turn.

"I've got more," he declared. "More tools. More fire. You've got nothing."

"I have us."

Rob stopped moving. "Us?"

"More." It turned around. "I shall release them."

It started walking. Rob watched.

_More? What is…oh no._

It moved towards a valve.

_Oh no._

The same valve that had sprayed Will. Where more of its kind lay waiting. The tanks were accessible only from the interior of the ship, but-

"I was here for them when you fell," the creature called out through the wind. "Now my task shall be complete."

"No!"

Rob charged. But the surface was still wet, and he slipped.

"No," he whispered.

The creature reached the valve. For a moment, Rob wondered how it could open it without any arms. But as its head extended from its neck, as it wrapped it around the valve, he got an idea.

"Not good. Not good!"

And it opened.

Rob didn't say anything. The roll of thunder did all the talking for him.

The creature turned around to face him as the oil seeped out. Not sprayed, _seeped_. This wasn't random. With Will, it had been an accident. But this was deliberate. Coordinated. And as the oil formed with the creature, any trace of Will was removed quickly. Soon, it resembled something else. Something large. Something with tentacles. Something out of mankind's worst nightmares.

"Cthulhu," Rob whispered.

Not literally. But it was the word that came to mind. Something out of mankind's nightmares. Something that mankind had spawned. Released from its prison, put there by beings that he guessed were far more advanced than the hairless apes flying around this part of the galaxy. Something he saw he had to stop, otherwise those apes would stop flying pretty quickly.

Cthulhu roared, as if in triumph. As if thinking the same thing.

**Warning. Warning.**

"Yeah, yeah," Rob whispered. "You don't need to tell me."

He'd have loved it much more if the HUD had given him a plan instead, because right now, he had nothing. Even if he got back inside, he doubted a blow torch would do him much good. Not against a thing that was already as tall as the tallest tower on the rig, and half as wide.

_Come on Rob. Think. Think!_

He backed away. There was nothing on the rig he could use. True, there was a tool shed on the other end that held standard equipment. Life rings, radios, flares, a med-kit, some-

_Flares!_

The creature roared. The elements raged. And Rob began running.

He didn't slip. He didn't dare consider it.

The human ran. The creature kept growing. Rob hoped it would ignore him but as a tentacle came down, that clearly wasn't the case.

"Shit!"

He stopped. The tentacle hit the ground. It went up. He kept running.

_Come on, come on._

Rob kept running. The HUD flashed "warning." A tentacle slammed down behind him.

_Come on!_

The shed was in sight. It was blocked by a tentacle coming at him horizontally.

_**Come on!**_

Rob dived, skidding across the ground. The tentacle went over him. He got to his feet instantly and kept running. To the shed. Into the shed.

**Warning. Warning.**

Rob switched the HUD off. There was nothing left for it to say.

_Flares, _he thought. _Flares, flares, need the-_

Half of the shed collapsed as a tentacle smashed down through it. Rob recoiled, glad to see that while the tentacles were thick, they weren't that large. Yet.

_Flares. Need flares. _

He saw a box marked as "flares."

_Oh._

Rob ran to the crate, ripping open the top. A flare gun was inside. Single shot.

_Great._

But there were still spares. And as a tentacle came down towards him…

_All or nothing…_

Rob fired.

The tentacle recoiled as the flare hit, fire spreading up the limb. The creature _screamed_.

Rob pressed his hands to his helmet, forgetting he couldn't reach his ears. The sound. It was…_unnatural._

_Like this fucking monster!_

He dragged the crate out of the shed. The creature was there. Still growing.

"Come on!" he yelled, loading another flare. "You want some?!"

It didn't. But he fired. It hit. The fire spread.

"That was for…"

Rob trailed off. Will. Anna. Isabelle. Wheaton. All dead. That was it. All he could do now was ensure that their deaths weren't in vain.

So he kept firing. The creature kept growing. The fire kept spreading. Spreading so much that all the rig was soon alight. And as Rob saw out of the corner of his eye, it was starting to reach the ship.

**Schrahhhhhh!**

He kept firing. The tentacles flailed. One came down by him, but he ignored it. He kept firing. Until the creature started slowing. Until it stopped growing. And as he loaded the last flare, as he walked past the flames, through the rain, below the clouds, he stared at it. At the fire spreading through the pipes. Burning every other piece of 'black gold' in the hell it belonged in. Rob pointed the gun at its base.

**Scrah! Wraeee! Rahhh! **

"Yeah, I hear you," he whispered. "But I'm hanging up the phone, motherfucker!"

He fired. The thing screamed. The fire spread.

And it was over.

Rob stood there, the flare gun by his side. Stood there as the fire spread. As a tower collapsed. As the thing lost all cohesion and became nothing more than fuel. What the _Gehenna _had originally come here for.

_It's over, _he thought. _Guys…it's over._

He stood there. Right until the whole rig swayed, and the ship in turn.

Rob glanced back. Fire had spread across the ship. There was no stopping it.

_It's over._

Another explosion rocked the structure. The rig tilted slightly.

_It's finally over._

Rob told himself that. Even as he began recoiling away from the intensity of the blaze.

It was only now that his mind registered the blaring of sirens.

It was only now, after glancing at the inferno and creature that fuelled it one more time, that he started running.

* * *

"Gehenna" was, by some translations, another name for Hell. And running through the corridors of the starship that bore the same name, Rob found himself in what could have easily amounted to "the abode of the dead." The fire. The sirens which rang like screams. The rocking of the ship as numerous explosions struck it.

Rob just ran. Even as the ship rocked to the side, as he was sent slamming into the wall, he got back to his feet and ran.

**Warning. Warning.**

The automated alerts blended into the background. There was nothing that the voice could tell him that he didn't already know. And once he was off this tug, only the dead would hear them.

**Warning. Warning.**

_I heard you dammit!_

Rob ran. He-

"Shit!"

Dived down as a blast of flame ran up the corridor before him. The suit protected him, but he could still feel the heat. In a way, deep inside his soul, he felt like he was already burning.

**All personnel evacuate.**

The rig worker got to his feet. He started running again.

There was no saving the _Gehenna_. Fire was destroying the rig, and if the rig sank, the ship would go with it unless it was detached. A process he had no idea how to operate. And even then, the fire was taking the ship as well. The engines were fission-based, still operating for the provision of power. Rob had never been near a nuclear meltdown in process, and had no intention of being here when the ship went down.

**All personnel proceed to evacuation stations.**

_Shut up!_

He kept running. Right up to when he saw the door marked **Escape Pod D-1**. One of the two escape pods of D deck. He wanted to take some supplies to bolster those already provided but-

**Warning. Fire has reached the generator room. Nuclear meltdown potential. Evacuate. Evacuate.**

There wasn't time.

The rig worker typed in his code at the door. It opened. He started getting in.

**Warning. Warning.**

He stopped. He looked back. Down through the blaze. Through the bowels of the ship that had been his home for the last few months.

**All personnel evacuate.**

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He got in. He didn't know who he was saying "sorry" to, or why. But everything that had happened had started with him and Will. On the rig. And while he'd finished it, he wished it had never been started at all.

_But it's over._

He kept telling himself that as he brought down the safety harness after activating the launch sequence. Escape pods were entirely automated. They would eject from a ship and head for the largest surface automatically. In this case, the planet on which they were already on.

**Launch? **the pod's terminal asked.

Rob held his finger forward. It was over. The ship was going down. That distress signal would stop transmitting soon, provided it hadn't already. Chances were he'd never be found. That no ship would come here.

**Launch?**

Will. Anna. Mordain. Ruda. They should have been here, the survivor reflected. Here, or in other pods.

**Launch?**

Another explosion rocked the ship. Rob glanced back through the porthole, as if expecting to see them coming. Mordain, barking orders. Ruda, asking not to be called "Bella." Will, being a smartarse. Anna, fussing over the situation.

**Launch?**

Closing his eyes, Rob pulled the release lever.

The pod launched down into the sea. It was a bumpy ride, and stayed so as he landed in the waves.

_Over. It's over._

Rob knew that soon, he'd stop having to tell himself that. Perhaps now, as he gazed out through the pod's porthole, past the rain and sea splashing against it. The _Gehenna _was burning. The rig was going down. The fire was cleansing everything. His fallen friends. The oil. Perhaps some of the creatures survived. Perhaps they'd come bubbling up to the surface. But with the fire raging, Rob knew that much of the disease that had taken his friends would be burnt away. And if radiation was harmful to them, than the imminent nuclear meltdown would be all the better.

"It's over."

As he took his helmet off with a pneumatic hiss, revelling in the feeling of fresher air, Rob knew that was the last time he would say that. But he kept watching. He kept staring.

He remained staring for a long time.

* * *

_A/N_

_The original conception for this chapter didn't actually involve a fight at all. Rather, it was a case of Rob facing 'Will,' being enveloped by the black liquid (both from Will and the valve), having a mental showdown of sorts, then igniting it from the interior, getting away before immolation, said immolation decimating the rig in the same way. Feel it was stretching things too much (liquid is burnt but not him?) and in light of the previous chapter, too much of an anti-climax. Of course, this chapter was admittedly a stretch as well, but...well, let's just say the Xenopedia universe got the "rule of cool" when Ripley took on a queen with a power loader. Or rule of bad-assitude. Go figure._


	6. Epilogue: Testament

**Prometheus: The New Black Gold**

**Epilogue: Testament**

**Audio recording of escape pod D-1, USCSS **_**Gehenna**_**, first entry**

**Begin transcript/**

**The storm has passed. The sun is rising. It's large. Yellow. Not warm though. But I wouldn't know in here.**

**This escape pod has enough air, food, and water for two people for one week. As I'm the only one in here, maybe I can last for two. Still not enough time to be rescued unless a miracle happens. And after the events of the last twelve hours, I've learnt that miracles don't exist.**

**The **_**Gehenna **_**is destroyed. Its crew, Captain Wheaton Mordain, Doctor Isabelle Ruda, Nurse Anna Chapel, Worker William Everton, are dead. Through further logs, I will make a detailed account of events for those who may find this pod, but if this is the only log you listen to, take note. Do not approach the site. There's only death here. It was always here. We just didn't know it. And we paid for that ignorance with our lives.**

**This is Robert McPhail, last survivor of the **_**Gehenna**_**. **

**Signing off.**

**End transcript/**

* * *

_A/N_

_Why yes, this _was _based on the endings of _Alien_, _Prometheus_, and arguably _Alien 3_. What gave you the hint? ;)_

_I actually considered tacking this onto the ending of the last chapter and/or having it written normally, as in, interspace Rob's words with narrative. Looking at the endings of the novelizations of _Alien _and _Alien 3 _however, looking at how Foster handled the writing, I settled on the above format, and to make it an epilogue._

_So, that's that. The fic is done. Don't have any more Xenopedian stories on my 'to write' list at this point in time I'm afraid. Currently working on _Section 8 _story titled _The Spark of Life _for what it's worth. So that being said, thanks to everyone who reviewed._


End file.
